Binary Stars and Other Mutually Attracted Objects in Orbit
by Next to Something
Summary: A collection of drabbles centered on the gravitational pull between Rey and Kylo Ren. Each are standalone unless otherwise noted. Ratings vary, as do genres, length, and seriousness.
1. In which Rey won't say his name

**Tumblr prompt:** Things you said after it was over.

 **Rated M.**

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"You never say my name, Rey."

She sits on the edge of the narrow bed. She's wearing his shirt because she doesn't like being naked with him. He is sprawled, broad and lazy, on the mattress behind her. Proudly naked, laying on top of the rough sheets.

She thinks he enjoys showing himself to her. He knows her mind, and knows what she thought that first moment she saw his face, all those months ago. He loves baring himself before her, showing her everything. He finds power in his own vulnerability with her.

Her fingers twitch on her thighs, covered by several inches of black fabric, the sleeves of his tunic reaching nearly to her knees. She doesn't like to show him anything.

"I don't know your name," she mumbles into the still air, already mapping her clandestine trek back to her own bed. Why she makes a nightly pilgrimage to the prisoner's barracks to make confusing love with the man who would crush the galaxy if only it would fit in his hand, she isn't sure. Some perverse gravitational pull. Some dark side effect of the Force they both know.

"You do know it," he says with little compunction. "Don't I bed you well enough to hear you moan it?"

She stands, pulling on her leggings. Wrapping her belt around his shirt so she won't have to figure out how to put hers on without taking his off. Her movements are jerky and she won't turn to face him.

"Go to hell," she snaps. Swiping hair clinging to the quickly cooling sweat on her brow, she finally turns.

There is so much of him. Yards of white, white skin. Dark patches of hair here and there, with long stretches of muscle she is embarrassed to know so well. He won't have her in the dark. Always, always he loves her in the glow of a lamp.

"This is over," she says, her jaw set.

"Is it?" He doesn't seem worried, lacing fingers behind his head, posturing just so. "You said the same thing last night. And the night before."

"I hate you."

His lips move as if to smile. Like he is trying to remember how. "You said that, too,"

She picks up her unlit lightsaber from the floor, tucks it in her belt. Looks at him again.

"Say my name, Rey," he says, and she nearly growls in frustration.

She doesn't know it. At these moments, baiting her and looking at her like she belongs on her back beneath him, he is Kylo Ren. When she is on her back beneath him, when his lips graze so gently over her eyelids when she's nearly there, when he begs her to rise to him with his body and his thoughts, he is Ben Solo.

In the silence where she stands now, he is nobody, and the greatest somebody, all at once.

It's over, every night. She tells him so, tells him she won't be back. And the next night, standing before him again, she kisses him–hoping to coax understanding from him through touch alone. And after, repeating her mantra: This is over. It's over.

"I don't know your name," she says again.

He nods, nonplussed. "You'll learn it. One of these nights."

She hurries down the hall toward the pilots' wing of the base, his words ringing after her. She always thinks it is over, that she is done, that the last time was time enough.

But she wants desperately to know his name.

 _ **End.**_

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Visit me on my tumblr is you'd like to submit a prompt! I am reylotrashcompactor dot tumblr dot com. I'd love to hear back from you, even with these being short little fictions. Thanks for reading!


	2. In which Rey tries something new

**Tumblr prompt:** Can we please talk about sub!Ren more often because this is literally the best thing I've seen in the entire world?

 **Rated T.**

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The air is still around the couple as they sit huddled close in the crowded bunk. Their fingers are loosely laced on Rey's lap as Kylo Ren stares hard at the ground, absently plucking at the tips of Rey's fingers with his free hand. Rey glances around the small room, not sure where to focus her gaze.

After another long moment, she clears her throat. "Y–you would like me to do…what?"

Ren's plucking at her fingers falters and he tries to pull his hand from hers. She grips him tightly and his mouth twitches in the smallest relief that she is not completely disgusted by him.

"It doesn't matter," he says, his tone soft and almost regretful. "I had only thought…" Again he fidgets with the tips of her fingers, sounding suddenly so nervous and insecure. "I don't want to do anything with which you aren't comfortable."

Rey shakes her head and glances at the still man beside her. The look of anxiousness that curls his brow sends a flush across her cheeks and she looks away again. "It's not that I'm not…comfortable with the idea. It's just–I wouldn't know how–"

Ren nods quickly, swallowing a hard lump in his throat. "Think nothing more of it." He stands, dropping her hand and smoothing the front of his dark tunic. Another tight nod, to no one in particular, and he crosses to the door.

"Ren."

Her small voice stops him and he sighs at the almost fear there. "Rey, it's–"

He hears her standing from the bunk with the rustle of fabric.

"Kylo Ren," she says again, her voice much more solid. It sends a wicked thrill up his spine and halts his words in his throat.

When he turns back to her, he sees that she has draped his heavy dark cloak over her shoulders, the large hood shadowing her eyes. His mouth goes dry. She is standing as tall as she can muster and the pooling of the extra foot of fabric around her small bare feet ignites something hot and liquid at the pit of his stomach.

She tips up her chin and says, very slowly, "Did I say you could leave?"

He stumbles the few feet toward her, his heart racing at her tone, at her posture, at her dominance. He falls heavily to his knees in front of her, his face shining in greatest adoration as he looks up at her from the floor. He grips the fabric of his own robe worn by another and simply waits for what she would have him do next.

Rey twists the smallest of cruel smiles before laying a hand along his cheek.

"Good boy."

 ** _End._**

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I'd love to hear back from you, even with these being short little fictions. Thanks for reading!


	3. In which Rey hears something

**Tumblr prompt:** Things you said that I wasn't meant to hear.

 **Rated T.**

* * *

It was like a whisper on the wind, though with the world crumbling beneath her feet and the crashing of falling trees, there was no way she could have heard a whisper. But she had heard it, all the same.

 _End this,_ it said again, and this time she recognized the voice. It wasn't hers, it was monster in the snow, this killer of Han Solo, this trickster who delved into her mind only to witness her loneliness—it was his voice. He was oozing cauterized blood clots from the wound she'd served him only breaths before, panting in pain. He sat up, almost presenting his chest for the blow, and he urged her again.

 _End this!_

How could she hear him? The thought only occurred to her briefly as she got another look at his ruined face. There was pain there, of course. But it was pain deeper than a saber wound, deeper than a bowcaster blast. This was pain soaked in heart's blood, in yearning to be done with the trappings of living.

He wanted her to kill him. He wanted to end.

She considered, took half a step, and stopped at the hopeful relief that spread across his face. She tasted bile at that look, so ready to be done. _So wretched_ with his own self-loathing. She could feel his regret, feel his bone deep grief at what he had done, at what he would have to continue to do if she would not kill him.

She didn't know how she could feel it, how she could hear him begging her for the mercy of her weapon. But she could.

And she thought, as she backed away and let the opening chasm make the tough decision for her, that if she killed him, if she ended his suffering, she would feel his death, too. Feel the loss of him.

He was right—she was lonely. Afraid. And his presence within her, however new and startling and perfectly pitiful, was more company than she had had for a very long time.

She watched as the distance grew between them as the maw opened wider. She felt his growing anger, his resentment that she hadn't finished what she started. She felt it as keenly as if she herself had felled Han Solo. But she welcomed it, for whatever reason, and hoped he could feel lighter for her taking some of his pain with her.

He wished for an end, but she found a beginning, and she wanted to see where it led.

 _ **End.**_

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I'd love to hear back from you, even with these being short little fictions. Thanks for reading!


	4. In which Rey is afraid

**Tumblr prompt:** Could you write a fanfic Rey being pregnant and fearing to tell Kylo?

 **Rated T.**

* * *

"I know, you know?"

Rey turned from the scrubbing of her boots. It wasn't as if the Resistance had protocol on how clean their pilots' boots had to be, but Rey had found that fastidiousness was one of the few comforts she could cling to even in the most tumultuous of times. Kylo Ren was standing a few feet behind her, looking laughable in the clothes that had been given to him by the Resistance, all browns and beiges. In the absence of his destroyed helmet, he'd taken to wrapping a dark brown scarf multiple times around his neck and draping the end over his head in a poor imitation of his past hood and cowl.

He looked more like one of the water-gathering wives of Jakku than a formidable villain, but Rey wasn't going to say anything.

"Know what?"

His eyes flicked down to her middle, then back up again.

"I know you're with child."

"Stars, Ren!" Rey yanked him over to where she stood with her shoe brush. "Not so loud!" she continued in a hushed whisper.

She looked around to see if anyone had heard, but they seemed to be fairly on their own. Everyone still gave Ren a wide berth after what had happened on Starkiller, no matter how many First Order hideouts he gave up to intelligence.

"'With child,' Ren? Seriously?"

"Don't try to make this about my superior prose, Rey," he whispered back. "You weren't going to tell me."

"Of course I was going to tell you!" She slammed the brush down on the table, causing the few people who _were_ near them to turn their heads. Rey grabbed him by his ridiculous water-wife hood and tugged him unceremoniously under the worktable. "And how did you know, anyway?" Her hand drifted protectively to her middle, a movement Ren watched with some trepidation.

"Our– The…" He chewed his lip, looking around for anything to focus on than Rey's waist–and not finding much. "It's Force sensitive."

Heat flushed Rey's face as she realized. "It's… You can sense it?"

His eyes drifted back to her stomach. He couldn't help being drawn to it.

"Yes."

 _So that feeling wasn't just her, then._ She blanched with realization.

"So, your mother knows? An–and Luke?"

"You're asking questions to which you already know the answer."

She nodded dejectedly, trying to not see him staring at her womb.

"Why wouldn't you tell me?" he demanded in a gruff whisper.

She scoffed. "Are you kidding? You've known, apparently! And you seem none too happy about it."

"I–!" Ren stuttered to a stop. Reached a tentative hand to where hers was clutched. Drew away. "I didn't think you'd want… My…"

It was silent under the table. Quiet enough that another pilot came up to do a much less thorough job of cleaning his own boots. They both sat, waiting for him to either notice them, or leave. He didn't notice, or enjoyed the scene too much to care, and cleaned both boots twice before walking away.

"I was afraid to tell you," she muttered once he'd left.

"Because you don't trust me."

She nodded slowly. "Because I don't trust you."

He leaned away from her with a grunt. "Nobody trusts me, but that doesn't make you any less with chi– Any less pregnant."

"No," she agreed. "It doesn't."

She added another hand the the one cupping the slight swell of her belly, trying to keep her breathing regular. She could talk to General Organa now, she supposed. Find out what she needed to know. A tickle of something–sentiment? delight?–nudged at her as she thought about what he'd said.

Force sensitive. Already. She almost smiled at the idea, but didn't want Ren to see. She'd never had a family, not really, not before Finn and Poe and General Organa. And perhaps Ren, if bickering and passionate making-up counted for anything. But now, it seemed, she was set on making her own. With those friends that were her support and this little flickering _thing_ inside her.

And Ren, the one who helped to create it.

She glanced across at the man under the table with her. He was looking so hard at her stomach it made her uneasy. In the dim light, she couldn't make out his expression. Dread? Excitement? Disgust?

"What are you going to do?" he asked suddenly, making her jump and knock her head on the underside of the table. He didn't take his eyes from her clutched hands.

"Keep it, I guess," she answered as she reached to rub her head. She watched him for a reaction, but he gave none.

 _Typical._

"What are you going to do?" she asked back.

He sat still for another moment before reaching over to cover her hand on her middle with one of his own. Rey swore she felt her body grow warmer. Felt that little flicker again.

"Work on earning your trust, I guess," he murmured in answer.

She did smile, then. A small thing, and only long enough so that he could see it.

He smiled back, just a moment, before settling back into the usually hard set of his face.

"Okay."

 _ **End.**_

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I'd love to hear back from you, even with these being short little fictions. Thanks for reading!


	5. In which there is Force bond downside

**Tumblr prompt:** Exploring the not so wonderful side of the force bond: menstrual pain. Enjoy yourself, Kylo Ren!

 **Rated K+.**

(Also, this was a personal favorite of mine. I hope you enjoy.)

* * *

Rey let out a groaning sigh as she collapsed back against the door to her quarters. Flight drill days were long enough, but this particular day felt like it had lasted a week. Every inch of her ached, and parts of her downright throbbed. All she wanted now was to change into clothes much more forgiving of her current fatigue and curl up with a trashy story on her holopad.

She neatly stowed her shoes and wandered to her small bedroom. Baggy clothes acquired, she went to the hutch in her small 'fresher for her handy, if not somewhat antiquated, hot water bottle. It wasn't under the shallow sink where she was sure she had left it. She shrugged, more than a little miffed, thinking that perhaps Finn had borrowed it.

She went next to the small kitchenette to dig out her small horde of sweets, particularly the harza cake she had set aside specifically for this week. When she opened the small cabinet, however, she found that it was mostly barren, save a few almost comical crumbs.

Untempered rage flared through her in a fiery blast so potent that she wasn't entirely surprised to find her saber lit and ready in her hand.

She followed the blue of the flame out of the kitchenette into the modest sitting room and let out a shriek of frustration. Huddled into the corner of the small couch was Kylo Ren, bundled unceremoniously head to foot in all the blankets that Rey owned. Using one hand to press her hot water bottle into his lower abdomen, he was using the other to push the last bite of her harza cake into his mouth.

"Are you serious right now, Ren?" she bellowed, not extinguishing her saber.

He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut against the echoing of her voice in the tiny room.

"Not so loud, girl. You have no idea how awful I feel today." He burrowed further into the blanket nest as he chewed slowly on her last crumbs of comfort.

"Oh, I think I do!" she said, taking a step into the room.

He cracked open his eyes at the tone of her voice, and seemed to really notice her then. His eyes grew wide. "Why do you have your saber lit? Is something the matter?"

She clicked off the saber with a _whump_ and plopped onto the couch beside him. She yanked the hot water bottle from his middle and pressed it into her own before beginning to tug the blankets from him.

"Move over, you miserable Hutt."

He untucked the blankets from around himself and attempted to share what he thought was a diplomatic amount. She yanked more over onto her.

"What's all this?" he asked.

She looked over at him, noticing her holopad laying on his chest. She grabbed that, too, and snorted at the lewd story he'd chosen.

"Don't you know?" she clipped in answer.

Looking overtly peeved, he shook his head. "Know what?"

Rey sighed. "Where does it hurt?"

"All over," Ren groaned pitifully. "But especially–"

"Here?" Rey asked with an expert jab to his gut.

He moaned again, then, as realization hit, his moan pitched up into a sound of understanding.

"I hadn't realized…"

"Yeah, well, I wish you had realized before you ate my last slice of cake."

"Oh!" He shifted, pointedly taking back some of the shared blankets. "There's still one piece left." He brought up a plate from the floor beside the couch with one final, and thankfully generous, slice of cake.

"Give it."

As Rey slowly savored the sweet, a wrenching cramp overtook her lower back and abdomen. She and Ren groaned in unison, and he snatched back the hot water bottle.

"Is it always this miserable?" he asked as he rucked a blanket up over his head in a pitiful imitation of a hood. Rey swallowed the last bite of cake and pulled up the blanket over her head as well.

"Pretty much." Much less grouchy now that her sweet craving had been tended to, she curled into Ren's side.

"And it's every month?"

She turned back to the beginning of the seedy story Ren had chosen on the holopad. "Yeah."

"Is there any way to stop it?" he asked, reading over her shoulder.

"Not without you becoming a dad, and since you won't even admit to your mother that you sleep here, I'm guessing that you don't want to go down the 'Gran Organa' route."

Ren laid soft lips to her temple as another cramp knotted at the base of his spine. "I'll tell her tomorrow."

Rey turned bewildered eyes to him, and he rushed to explain.

"N-not so that we could… Halt your cycle—"

Rey relaxed somewhat.

"It's just probably time I tell her why I'm back. What this thing is between us and how we can use it against Snoke."

Rey felt suddenly like crying, but figured were it another time of the month she wouldn't be so inclined.

"Are you sure?" she asked. "You're pretty hormonal right now. You shouldn't make any rash decisions when you're in this state."

He kissed her full on the mouth, biting down on her bottom lip in emphasis. "I'm sure, wicked girl."

Another tight cramp passed between them.

"After all," he hissed. "We might as well make all of this worth it."

 ** _End._**

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I'd love to hear back from you, even with these being short little fictions. Thanks for reading!


	6. In which Kylo Ren loves Rey's body hair

**Spite fic! Anonymous asked:** so your headcanon is that Rey has armpit and leg hair but you have her be all smooth and silky in your sexy fics with Kylo. Hmmmm. ::insert hypocrites everywhere gif::

So I decided to write a micro fic in which my headcanon that Rey has body hair plays a very integral part! Let's throw in some bisexual!Ren into the mix, too, cause I can.

 **Rated M.**

* * *

She is wild.

It is the only way he can describe her when they are together like this. She is open, she is honest, she hides nothing from him.

Kylo Ren has had encounters before, has shared these short intimacies with both men and women, and always they keep something from him. People, as people, hold something back.

But Rey, oh, Rey. She tells the truth. In every movement of her body, every hitch of her breath, she is laid bare.

 _This is how a body that knew only the love of a desert looks. These are the freckles that desert's sun gave me. These ribs that show through my back are the work of a hungry life._

He runs large hands over that honest body, eager to discover its every sincerity. His long fingers can circle her wrists and travel, without breaking that loose grip, all the way to her underarms— _because she lived a life that couldn't spare an ounce of nourishment for something so luxurious as body fat, as anything more than the sparest of fibrous muscle._ His fingers stroke the long silk of the hair she has there— _because she had no one to tell her that the ways of a woman's body might not bend to the ways of a society built on more than starship salvage._

Even most men that Ren had known had removed that hair from their underarms for reasons that no one completely understood. Because they should. Because their body doesn't know the things that they know about the world.

But this was Rey's body. This was all that she had in the long hot of the desert, and who was she to think that, if it managed to keep living, it should look any different for the sake of vanity.

When she wraps those long, strong legs around him, also dusted with the softness of hair that never knew removal, never knew shame, he can feel his heart crumbling for this girl who doesn't know the way of people like he does.

She knows basest survival. She knows the worth of yourself, unto yourself.

He knows appearances. He knows machinations, politics, coercion. He knows the shame that would shutter him behind a mask so no one could see the vestiges of his father's strong features.

When she bows into him like this, welcoming his eyes on every part of her, he finds that pull for honesty. That truth that he is weary of denying the Light that seeks to take root in him. And if Rey is on the other side, then perhaps leaving the appearances, the mechanizations, the lies of the Dark behind is worth the surrender.

And as his body shudders into hers, she murmurs another truth across his skin.

 _This isn't you, Ben. Come back._

And he trusts her simple truth, as always.

 _ **End.**_

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I'd love to hear back from you, even with these being short little fictions. Thanks for reading!


	7. In which Kylo gets a bit Genghis Khan

Inspired by the song _Genghis Khan_ by Miike Snow, featuring a very jealous Kylo Ren.

 **Rated M.**

* * *

"I saw you with Dameron today." **  
**

Rey was pulling on her shirt at the foot of the bed. Ren watched from his sated recline against the pillows as her back muscles tensed at his words. They were quickly covered by the linen fabric of her shirt.

"How?" She turned toward him, tossing him his prisoner's uniform, which he pointedly ignored. She huffed and roughly tugged her mussed hair into a high knot on her head.

 _Stars, she looked good freshly bedded._

"Even prison cells have windows, pet." He jerked his chin over his shoulder at the small, high window behind him.

"You were spying on me?" She was on her feet now, tugging on her leggings in angry jerks. Ren was sorry to see those mile-long legs go.

"It could hardly be called spying if you happen to walk past the one square foot of the outside world I am privy to."

She was reaching for her boots, now. She missed a large section of her hair in the back, and it hung faintly curled with sweat at the nape of her neck. She looked downright obscene in her askew clothes and flushed cheeks. He didn't want her to go.

"It seems a bit more like spying when even a lunk like you would probably have to stand on the bed to see out that window."

Ren was silent for a moment before answering. "I heard your voice. I…wanted to see you. In the daylight."

She didn't answer him and instead plopped down on the floor to tie her laces. He felt suddenly foolish at his ridiculous confession—no matter how true it was—and at Rey's apparent dismissal of it.

"So. Dameron, is it?" he asked, sitting up a little taller in bed. He was bare to the waist, covered only by the crumpled sheets. "A little cliche, don't you think, to bed down with the galaxy's greatest pilot when you're not even through academy?"

"You're a shit," she muttered, angrily switching to the other shoe. "And I'm not in academy. I'm just filling in some holes where the simulators were lacking."

"Point stands."

"Why do you care?"

Ren laced his fingers behind his head, posturing just so in case she decided to finally look at him. "I don't," he lied.

"It sounds like you do." She stood from the floor, sweeping hands over her clothes to try to ease any wrinkles. It wasn't working; she still looked as if she'd been thoroughly fucked.

Something about this—her efforts to hide whatever evidence she could of her time with him, that some other man might know just how alluring she looked after being seen to properly, might have the pleasure of not just fucking her, but finding sleep next to her—twisted like a dagger in his gut. He dropped his hands and got out of the bed, standing as tall as his formidable frame would let him.

"Where do you sleep?" His voice was deeper than he intended, more brittle.

Her attention snapped to him and she flushed. "Put some clothes on."

"Where do you sleep?" he asked again, no less dark.

"You have no right to that information."

He took a step toward her. "I know, but I want it all the same."

Used to him, perhaps, she stood her ground, squared her shoulders. _Fuck, he wanted her._

"Why do you care?"

He let his eyes linger on her in a way he hoped made it very evident. He saw the slight flutter of her throat as she tried to discreetly gulp, and stretched a small smile. "You know why."

She did step away from him then, patting her body then searching the floor as if she dropped something. He spotted the security clearance badge before she did and discreetly kicked it under the bed.

She kept searching, growing frustrated. "Actually, I don't. What? Do you want to be my boyfriend?" She stood up then, glaring at him with clenched fists. "Do you want to be my boyfriend who's in prison?"

Ren laughed. "Stars, you're young. Can you hear yourself? 'Boyfriend?' Honestly."

Her eyes were on the floor again as she continued to look for the badge. "Then what do you want?" Her voice was sharp with annoyance.

"I want to know where you sleep!"

She whirled on him. "In my own bed! Alone!" She stalked over to him and jabbed a finger hard in the middle of his chest. "You need a bigger window, you kriffing buckethead. Then you might see that Poe Dameron is with Finn, not with me. Not by a longshot."

Her eyes were sharp on his, her hair almost completely fallen from the knot she had thrown it into. _She looked good enough to eat._

He closed his hand around hers that she had planted accusingly on his sternum. "Come back to bed," he growled.

"What?"

He tugged her arm. "I spoke clearly enough."

She paused only a moment, giving his naked body a cursory glance, before tugging her clothes back off. He helped, none too gently, and threw her purposefully back onto the cot. He followed after, kissing her deep into the thin mattress.

"You're mine, Rey," he moaned against her cheek. "I won't share you."

"Shut up," she answered, her breath hitching as he moved above her. "You talk too much."

She kissed him hungrily, urging him with her body. He broke away with a groan.

"I'm—" he rocked into her, his jaw clenched at the too right feel of her. "I'm yours, too," he whispered into her fallen hair. He was too chagrined to look at her as he admitted this, to tell her that even this confession wasn't enough to convey what he felt about her. How much she meant to him, and how he wished he could love her in the daylight, not just in his cell when she decided to abuse her security clearances.

She smiled a smile that he didn't see, and arched into the press of him. Into the only truth of his she believed.

"I know."

 ** _End._**

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I'd love to hear back from you, even with these being short little fictions. Thanks for reading!


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